


the scars on my wrist (won't go away)

by loneified



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Depression, Fluff, M/M, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-03-05 15:09:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3124760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loneified/pseuds/loneified
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tyler has relapsed and jamie doesn't know what to do</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the four out of five people keeping secrets (& how they found out)

**Author's Note:**

> i don't really like writing about this sort of thing but i was feeling sad and yet i was feelin' bennguin and this happened and i started writing and it went to shit
> 
> WARNING  
> topics in this story will relate to self harm and depression, and sexual content.  
> also none of these occasions that happen in here (self harm issues, for example) have occured.
> 
> i'm also not the best when it comes to accuracy, so i'll try my hardest!

                Tyler Seguin is thirteen when he first starts cutting.

                There isn’t an exact reason. He’s just sad.

                Tyler sneaks a razor blade he found into his pocket. It was just an extra one from when his dad was cutting carpet or whatever, he didn't really know and he didn't really care. With that, he ran back into his room before anyone noticed, his stomach in his throat and his heart thumping in his chest.

                It takes a week before he actually puts the blade to use. 

                Tyler ends up home alone. His sisters, Candace and Cassidy, are each at a friend's house, and both of his parents are at his mother's work party. He's been alone since he's been home from school. 

                It was an especially bad day that day. Woke up late. Went to school. Got pushed down. Kicked. Called gay (he didn't know why, it's not like being gay was _bad_ \- it's not like he was gay anyway. Or, at least, he wasn't sure yet). Did bad on a test, earning him a strict, worried speech from his teacher. It went something along the lines of, _"Tyler, your grades have been dropping a lot recently, and I'm kind of disappointed. Is everything okay?"_. He shut his teacher out during it, so he didn't know exactly what the teacher actually said. Overall, it was just a regular day in the life of Tyler. 

                And honestly, he wanted to die. He didn't say goodbye to his parents when they left. 

                He locked himself in his room and scratched at his wrists, twitching occasionally, thoughts plaguing his head and not going away. The thought of himself making his wrist bleed made him crumble inside, but he wanted -  _needed_ \- that relief. 

                So, an hour later, when his wrists were raw and red and numb, he sat in the tub. The scent of his mom's Dove shampoo and his dad's aftershave surrounded him, making him think of what they would think of him if they found out he did this. He didn't want to think too much about it. Thinking made him tired lately. 

                Tyler had the blade he stole in his hands. He stared at it. It seemed to stare back at him, taunting him, even though it was a dumb object and didn't have any eyes or emotions or wasn't even living. Tyler still felt like it was begging him to use it.

                He hated it. 

                Tyler was scared to use the blade. He didn't want to have these faint, white scars on his wrist when he was older, reminding him of why he did this. He didn't want people giving him looks of sympathy. He didn't want that.

                But he was honestly drowning in his own thoughts and he wanted to have an escape.

                So, when Tyler Seguin was thirteen, he started cutting.

                He was sitting in the tub when he first put the small, sharp, silver blade to his wrist.

                He made a total of five small incisions on his left wrist. It stung like a motherfucker, but Tyler was almost thankful for the relief.

                After he cleaned up, he cried until his parents got home. 

 

\- - - - -

 

                Tyler's parents started to wonder why their son always wore long sleeves. 

                It would be seventy degrees out, and he'd be out in basketball shorts, and either a long sleeved shirt or a sweatshirt, sleeves always down.

                They thought that maybe he was insecure about his arms. They never questioned him. They never talked to him about it. They just assumed, and left it at that.

                Things would have been much better for Tyler, if only his parents had talked to him about it. But they didn't, and Tyler's depression got worse and his self harm went on. 

                His sisters thought it was amusing Tyler always wore long sleeves. They also thought Tyler was insecure about his arms. So, they teased him about it. Whenever they teased him, his face would get red with worry and panic, but they thought it was embarrassment. Whenever he denied it, they thought it was true.

                Tyler wished someone had reached out to him and asked him more about why he always wore long sleeves. He wished they would of pushed until he admitted it. 

                Tyler was to scared to say something to someone instead. He wanted someone to say something to him. He was scared. He was worried. He felt sick whenever he though about it. He thought he'd get judged. He thought his parents would be angry at him. He thought his sisters would be angry at him, too. He thought they would stop talking to him. He thought he'd lose everyone. 

                Tyler wished, so bad, that someone had asked him why he wore long sleeves. 

                His life would have been better if someone did. He would have gotten better. He wouldn't have covered his arms with these cuts that haunted him all the time.

                No one did, though, and life went on for Tyler Seguin.

\- - - - -

                The first person ever to find out that Tyler self harmed was Tyler Brown. 

                They were wrestling on the floor when Ty first saw the scars.

                Tyler was, of course, wearing a sweatshirt. It was baggy, though, and the sleeves would slide down if he wasn't careful.

                He didn't notice when they slid down while Brownie and him were wrestling.

                He didn't notice at first how Brownie slowed down and stared at his arm. 

                He did, notice, though, when Brownie pinned him down, his arms holding down Tyler's left arm by his wrist.

                He did notice, though, when Brownie's mouth was slightly hanging open, he noticed the shock and hurt in Brownie's eyes as they studied every little scar on Tyler's arm. 

                Tyler did notice when Brownie's grip loosened and he did notice Brown's shaky hands as he dragged his fingers gently over Tyler's freshest scars which were only two days old. Brownie then knew why Tyler took so long to 'go to the bathroom' as Tyler had said before they left to go to the rink.

                Brownie wanted to vomit.

                Tyler really, really wanted to vomit.

                "Ty, it's not what you think-"  

                "Tyler, of course it's what I fucking  _think._ Do you think I'm stupid? Oh God, Segs. Oh God, oh God, oh God." 

                Tyler seemed to whine. "I'm sorry, fuck, I'm so fucking sorry."

                "Don't apologize Tyler. It's not really your fault. It's okay, it's okay. Have you-" Brownie paused, still processing that his best fucking friend has been self harming for who knows how fucking long and he didn't know and he didn't and couldn't help and he was so mad at himself and upset at Tyler for not telling him and he was just shocked. He was absolutely shocked. "Have you told anyone?"

                "No." Was the simple answer that came as a squeak from Tyler Seguin's mouth. 

                "Dammit, Tyler, _dammit_. We - you - need to tell someone. If you don't, I will."

                "No, no, no, no, no _, no, no, no._ " Tyler's heart started racing and his eyes filled with panic and tears and his palms started to sweat and Brownie  _couldn't_ do that to him. 

                Brownie watched his best friend with worry - he had never, ever seen Tyler act like this in all of his life and he was scared. Tyler was always happy and smiling and cracking dumb jokes that he thought were fucking hilarious even though they weren't but Brownie still laughed along with him for the heck of it. This version of Tyler scared him and he so desperately wanted to tell someone but seeing his friend filled with this much fear at that thought of someone else finding out held him back. Brownie watched Tyler beg for him not to tell, so he fucking obliged.

                 "Jesus fuck, I won't tell anyone, okay? God dammit Tyler, I won't tell anyone. Just - you need to promise me that you won't hurt yourself anymore, okay?" Brownie's voice cracked, and Tyler lunged at him, hugging him. 

                 "I'll try."

                 "No, Ty, you  _will._  I expect weekly check ups when we're apart and I want daily check ups when we're not. Promise?"

                 "Okay." 

                 They hugged and they both crawled into bed together and Tyler Brown spent the night with Tyler Seguin wrapped up in his arms and hoped that Tyler wouldn't hurt himself ever again. 

                 Tyler Seguin never did promise Tyler Brown he wouldn't hurt himself again. Brown didn't notice, but Tyler did. Of course he did.

                 Tyler stopped cutting on his left arm for the next few months Tyler Brown forced check ups on his arm. 

                 Brownie didn't think to check Tyler's thighs or right arm, which Tyler thought was incredibly stupid.

                 He cleared Brownie's check ups each time and eventually Brownie stopped when he thought Tyler was done self harming but that wasn't true and Tyler wished Brownie would of told someone else but he didn't and Tyler had to carry on with life and he still wanted to die. 

                 Now more scars covered Tyler Seguin's body. Every morning he would get up and he would look at his arms and thighs and he would want to puke and he'd cry and then he'd feel even uglier and sadder than he already was which just caused more cuts. And he was so, so damn sad. 

                 Tyler Brown would always text and ask how he was doing. Tyler would always reply things like, "Good!", "I'm doing alright.", and "Great, actually!" - all of which were a lie. Brownie believed them though, and Tyler wished he could of saw right through them and told someone. 

                 He never did, though. 

                 Tyler Seguin carried on with life, though. Teammates made fun of him for wearing long sleeves. His face would get red. The topic would be dropped eventually. No one questioned it. No one ever did. 

                 It killed Tyler but he couldn't bring himself to tell anyone. 

                 Brownie eventually stopped asking him how he was doing and seemed to drop the whole memory of Tyler ever self harming. Tyler wanted to be thankful, but he wasn't and he missed the texts where Brown would ask him how he was doing. 

                Tyler just added more scars to his wrists and stopped wearing baggy sweatshirts.

 - - - - -

                The second person ever to find out was Patrick Kane. 

                It was when they were playing in Switzerland during the lockout, and shared an apartment. 

                Tyler had asked their coach to leave practice early. Their coach was confused as to why, but he noticed he was playing like shit so he excused him, labeling him leaving early for family reasons. 

                Their coach was way off. 

                Tyler Seguin had drove to the apartment with tears blurring his vision. He parked the car and fumbled with his keys to get into the apartment and when he did he took a razor out of his bag and he went into the bathroom. 

                He forgot to lock the door.

                Tyler sat on the floor for fifteen minutes, biting a towel and screaming his lungs out into it, pulling on his hair almost hard enough to make his scalp bleed. He made marks on both thighs and both arms. He then took a shower, and afterwards he sat on the floor and cried.

                Patrick Kane walked into their apartment and heard muffled sobs in the bathroom. Out of curiosity and worry for his friend, he opened the door to see a very naked Tyler Seguin bawling on the wet bathroom floor.

                Pat dropped his shit when he saw the fresh new cuts on Tyler's body, along with the previous white lines that marked him. Pat wanted to cry with him. 

                Patrick sat down and pulled Tyler up and into him so he could cry into his chest. Tyler just gripped Kane's shirt until his knuckles were white and Patrick's shirt was absolutely soaked with tears. Patrick didn't mind, though, and throughout Tyler's crying he stroked his hair and patted his back, holding him up and letting him cry. Tyler appreciated it. 

                Pat didn't ask him why he cut. Or not right away, at least. First, he helped Tyler get dressed into comfy sweats, and, like always, a sweatshirt. Pat cooked him dinner, which was chicken noodle soup. Pat's mom had always made him soup whenever he cried when he was little, so he figured he'd make some for Tyler, too. 

                Tyler only ate half of it, but he still mumbled a sincere thank you to Patrick. 

                Patrick finally asked why Tyler self harmed when they were both in bed. Tyler didn't reply. He really didn't need too. He cried a little bit, though, causing Pat to feel guilty enough to crawl into bed with him just like Tyler Brown did a year ago. 

                Pat held him close until they both fell asleep. 

                After the lockout, Patrick would occasionally text him how he was doing. He never told. Tyler wish he had told. He was thankful he didn't, but yet, he wasn't. He wanted someone to reach out for him. 

                No one did, though. No one ever did. 

                Tyler just decided to keep playing hockey, because it was the only thing he was good at doing. It was also the only thing that made him happy, and didn't make him want to die.

\- - - - -

                The third and fourth people to find out that Tyler self harmed were Brad Marchand and Patrice Bergeron.     

                It was a little before Tyler Seguin got traded to the Dallas Stars. 

                Brad noticed that Tyler had been especially off the past few days. 

                So, Brad had told Patrice, and they both decided to have an intervention. 

                When Tyler first arrived at Brad's house, he noticed Patrice was there too. He started to panic. He was about to leave, but Brad stopped him. Tyler silently cursed them all. 

                Brad grabbed his wrist through Tyler's sweatshirt, which made him flinch. He had recent cuts, and it hurt when Brad grabbed them. It was unintentional, though, and Tyler knew that Brad didn't know, so he didn't hold it against him. 

                Marchand dragged him into the living room, where both Patrice and Brad had set up a couch and two chairs. The chairs were both facing the couch, and the couch facing the chairs. Tyler gulped. Patrice was placed in the chair on the left, and Brad went and took his spot in the chair on the right. Patrice motioned for Tyler to sit down on the couch. Shakily, Tyler did. He had a gut feeling that he knew what this was going to be about. His vision blurred with tears. 

                Patrice started it off with asking, "Are you okay, Tyler?" 

                Tyler said that he was fine.

                Brad noticed how Tyler was absently rubbing his wrists. He knew almost immediately. 

                "Hey, Segs, can you... uh, roll up your sleeves?" Brad asked carefully.

                Tyler seemed to freeze. Patrice gave Brad a look. Brad stared expectantly at Tyler. Tyler looked to Patrice to help. Patrice continued to give Brad a weird look. Tyler felt like he was getting choked by Brad's gaze.

                "Just let us see, Ty. We're not gonna say anything, okay?"

                There it was. Two more people to keep a secret that he didn't want to be kept. He wanted them to tell someone. He didn't say that, though. He pretended he was thankful.

                "I guess I have no choice, right?" Tyler seemed to laugh, but his voice cracked, and he lifted up his sleeves. 

                Patrice shook his head and Brad just let out an, "Oh, Tyler." Tyler felt blood rush up to his face. Brad put his head in his hands. Patrice got up and hugged Tyler.

                "Why didn't you tell us? We could of helped."

                Tyler muttered a sad sorry. Patrice just rubbed his back. Brad hugged Tyler.

                They tried to make Tyler talk about it. He didn't say much. He said he was doing okay, though. That he hadn't hurt himself in four days. Tyler was originally proud of himself for that, and he felt like he took a small step towards getting better. The disappointed look on his friend's faces told him otherwise. It made him feel like he was the scum of the Earth and it hurt. It made him feel worthless. It made Tyler wanna cry.

                So, they talked about it. Patrice and Brad told him it would get better. Tyler left. He went home. He cried. He hurt himself. Four days of being clean was over. 

                Then the next day Tyler got the call that he was being traded and he cried some more and he told the boys and they cried and they hugged him and told him it would be okay. 

                Patrice and Brad never told anyone about his self harm and depression issues. He thought they would, but they didn't. He wanted them too, but they didn't.

                Tyler just packed up his things and left to go to Dallas. 

                Jamie Benn picked him up from the airport and brought him to his new home.

                He got a nice apartment and moved in and decorated it to his liking. After that, Jamie Benn invited him over. 

                They got to know each other even more. They had texted before Tyler arrived in Dallas. They talked. They became best friends.

                When Tyler met Jamie Benn, his life started to look up, but it also started to fall apart.


	2. the fifth person who found out (& how it all turned out)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tyler falls apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm honestly so sorry i never got this done.
> 
> i've been so busy lately, i had soccer tryouts, soccer season, family problems, dog problems.
> 
> having writers block didn't help one bit.
> 
> this chapter will most likely be a bit slower and not as fast paced, i suppose, but it should also be longer. i also barely edited this bc im lazy :-) 
> 
> also listen to a sad song it'll probably help the effect
> 
> so, without further stalling, here's the chapter!

      - - - - - 

 

          Tyler and Jamie end up being best friends, and for once in his poor, miserable but kind of good life, Tyler is actually  _happy._

          He doesn't feel like crying and sobbing every time something happens to him, or at least he hasn't recently. 

          Tyler is also finally taking care of himself. His appearance is well kept, the dark bags under his eyes that looked like permanent bruising have finally gone awhile. And, finally, Tyler's smile reached his shining brown eyes, and it was all because of Jamie.

          Jamie fucking Benn.

          When Tyler got traded to the Stars, he was scared out of his damn mind. He was so upset, so worried.  _What happens if they don't like me? What if I'm not good enough? I wasn't in Boston, why would I be there...?_ Those thoughts raced though his worried mind, eating him alive, as he sat in his old apartment shower, rocking back and forth - trying to numb himself to the world. With this trade, Boston had put so much doubt in his mind and he wasn't sure if he wanted to continue on. He had built something here in Boston that a person may or may not call a life (even though, Tyler thought, it was quite the pathetic life). And now, he had to pick up this pathetic life and move it down to Dallas, Texas.

          To say in the least, he was not excited. Until, Jamie Benn texted him a day later.

           **jamie: hey bro!!!! wassup!!!!!! pumped for u to get in dallas!! txt me details l8er, jordie is harassing me. :-)**

          After he got that text, his stomach fluttered and did a tiny flip, and then he thought, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

 

\- - - - -

 

          When Tyler arrived in Dallas, Jamie was there with a rather large, annoying poster. It was bright pink, with the name, "TYLER SEQUIN" written on it. Tyler groaned, rolling his eyes, but gave Jamie a million dollar smile that almost made Jamie's own knees buckle, but he showed no sign.

          "It's Seguin," were Tyler's first words to Jamie when he got off the plane.

          "Oh, I know, Tyler, but we don't want to attract any attention. I feel as if Sequin worked well as an undercover name, but was still not as noticeable as Seguin." 

          "Okay, buddy. Whatever floats your boat," Tyler spoke, laughing at Jamie's pathetic excuse of an 'undercover' name. So, Tyler and Jamie grabbed the rest of Tyler's luggage (Marshall would be arriving in a few days, his mother was driving him down, with some other stuff that Tyler wasn't able to pack before leaving). With that, they walked out of the airport and to Jamie's car, where Tyler tossed his belongings in the truck, and hopped into the front seat. 

          "Can I have your apartment address, Tyler?" Jamie asked, his voice quiet and rough. Tyler looked it up in his notes on his phone and read it out loud, and Jamie nodded, typing it into his own phones GPS.

          Quietly, Jamie started up the car, and they listened to the robotic female voice tell them where to go. Jamie drove for a bit, before deciding to break the, surprisingly, not awkward silence. 

          "So, Tyler, tell me about yourself," Jamie pushed, and Tyler internally panicked. 

_Well, Jamie Benn. I'm just a hockey playing man who struggles with severe depression and self harm. But, you know, I'm okay, so don't worry about me. What about yourself?_

"Well, Jamie, I just got traded to the Stars from Boston, and I'm a little nervous. I like hockey, and I like playing hockey. I also like dogs. What about yourself?" Tyler said, faking a smile that could've fooled anyone and everyone. Jamie took a side glance at him, before repeating almost the same thing, except it was along the lines of, 'Well, Tyler, I'm also a hockey playing man who plays and likes hockey, but to me, dogs are okay, but cats are better'. The last line made Tyler gasp out loud, staring at Jamie with shock, betrayal. This led into a heated argument about which were better - dogs or cats. 

          Jamie was convinced cats were better, because you don't have to pay as much attention to most of them, but they were nice lap cats when they wanted to be. But, they were sassy and Jamie enjoyed them.

          Tyler, on the other hand,  _knew_ dogs were better. They are forever companions, loyal till death. Who didn't love dogs? Apparently Jamie, and Tyler was shocked with this news.

          Tyler was pretty sure he had won the fight when Jamie shut up. Jamie still had a grin on his face, though, and offered to buy Tyler a subway sandwich, which Tyler happily agreed too. 

          Soon, Tyler finally arrived at his new apartment, eager to start putting his belongings away and setting some up. Jamie had offered to help, but Tyler told him that he was okay. So, Jamie just asked Tyler to come over whenever - which surprised Tyler, and made a soft, almost unnoticeable blush rush up his neck and cover his cheeks. Tyler agreed, but he wanted to put away his possessions before he did anything else.

          Tyler didn't have much with him, just three suitcases full of clothes and a few other small possessions. His apartment was already fully furnished, which was nice, so he didn't need to worry about furniture. He'd probably just buy a better television or something, maybe another couch or a comfier bed. He wasn't too worried, though, he could live with these items for awhile.

          After folding his clothes surprisingly neat, he shoved them in the drawers in his room, all of a sudden not caring. Tyler just folded them to waste time, he guessed. It was like he was almost stalling - he was scared to go to Jamie's house. Excited, but scared, and he wasn't sure why. It's not like he  _didn't_ want to go. He did. Pretty badly, actually. He was just a little bit nervous, that was all.

          Getting up off of his bed, he grabbed his phone off of it, and texted Jamie.

           **tyler: hey what tf is ur address man?? also what kind of pizza do u like?**

Jamie replied almost instantly. 

           **jamie: i literally live in the apartment complex two blocks away from it u can find it urself i'll buzz u in tho. i like w/e, just get mushrooms on it plz**

**tyler: mushrooms?? wtf no. we're getting bacon and pepperoni pizza from dominos. and eff u.**

**jamie: u can if u want (:**

Tyler choked on his own spit, his face getting incredibly red. He decided not to reply, unsure of what to say, and exited his own apartment complex, walking to the Domino's pizza which was just down the street.

          It took Tyler an hour of walking around to locate Jamie's apartment. The pizza was cold when he arrived, and Jamie was incredibly upset when Tyler arrived with no mushrooms.

          They didn't talk about Jamie's last text the whole night.

 

\- - - - -

 

          It's been about two months since Tyler moved to Texas, and he was doing okay. The rest of his things arrived, along with Marshall. Jamie and him were practically inseparable, and he was actually kind of happy for once.

          He also had a big crush on said friend Jamie Benn. The way he talked, laughed, how he acted, how he was kind of shy. Tyler was falling for him, and he didn't want to stop. He wasn't sure if Jamie liked him back, so he never hinted at Jamie, never told him himself. They were just two friends. Also, one gay NHL player, possibly two, Tyler wasn't sure (and he did not want to ask), that were teammates, shouldn't be dating. It would be heavily frowned upon. So, he ignored his feelings for Jamie and kept them locked up. It wasn't good for him. 

          Tyler, even though he was doing okay, still got the itch on his wrists, his mind and thoughts threatening to drown himself in sadness, in despair. His thoughts plagued him at night when he was alone. He often stayed up crying until two in the morning, and some days he didn't get up and take care of himself, the purple bags under his eyes huge and dark. 

          Jamie tried his best to help him. He had suspected, after getting to know him, Tyler had some form of depression. It wasn't easy to tell, but Jamie just knew. Every few days, when Tyler wouldn't reply, Jamie would go to his apartment with the spare key that Tyler had given him, and check up on him. He would feed and water Marshall for him, before checking on a sleeping, shivering Tyler in his bed. Jamie would always cook breakfast for Tyler on his rough days. Even though it wasn't very good, Tyler tried his best to eat it all. It almost never worked, for he never had an appetite on these days. Jamie was still always by his side.

          Jamie also didn't know how the fuck Tyler didn't expect that Jamie liked him. Jamie tried to make it so obvious, but it flew right over Tyler's head and it was frustrating. He was always there for Tyler, whenever Tyler was sad or anything. Jamie Benn was whipped for Tyler Seguin, and Tyler Seguin didn't even know.

 

\- - - - -

 

          A lot of days, Jamie had to force Tyler to get up and get ready for hockey. Tyler was starting to sink again, even though Jamie made him incredibly happy. Jamie had made his life so good, so perfect within the few months that Tyler had known him.

          But it still didn't help. 

          Tyler still kind of wanted to die.

          Jamie had told him that he was and would always be there for Tyler, but Tyler would always just shrug. Jamie would get mad over this, but Tyler didn't care, and Jamie knew there was nothing that he could do. 

          It was training camp now, and Jamie had come over to try and get Tyler up. Marshall barked excitedly when Benn walked in, and Jamie patted the lab's head a few times before shutting the door behind him. To his surprise, Tyler was already awake. He was sitting in front of the stove, making two omelettes. Jamie stared, "You're happy today."

          "Of course I am, Jamie. It's training camp, if you didn't know, and I'm planning to try to be in the top six. Why so surprised?" Tyler hummed, "This omelette here is for you, by the way. I put extra bacon in it." 

          Jamie sat on a stool at one of the counters, blushing slightly at the fact that Tyler had been expecting him and had cooked an omelette for him, "Thanks, Ty, and I appreciate it. And you've been sad the past few days... this mood change is sudden."

          Tyler's muscles tightened at Jamie's mention of him being sad, and therefore, he got defensive. He didn't reply to Jamie. This caused Jamie to want to pursue it even further.

          "Y'know, Tyler... you've never exactly told me what's up with you, I guess. I mean, we've only known each other for a few months, but c'mon, Ty, I deserve to know why you're sad so often," Jamie pushed, biting his cheek, waiting for a reply. 

          "I don't want to tell you," Was Tyler's simple reply. His voice had gone monotone, any happiness that had just previously been there had seemed to leak out. Jamie's face paled, knowing that he's about to fuck up big time. Still, he pushed. He wanted,  _needed_ to know Tyler's backstory. He wanted to help.

           "Please Ty."

           "No."

           "Tyler..."

           " _No!"_ Tyler yelled, whipping around to face him, "I don't want to tell you, I don't need too, Jamie. It's none of your business." 

           Jamie scowled at him, "You know what, Tyler? I was just trying to help, I still am. What's the big deal? It couldn't be that bad. You need to stop being sad, Tyler. It's not good for you. Smile, be happy." 

           "Fuck you, Jamie," Tyler's voice was laced with anger, dripping with fury, "You don't know half of it. And you know what? It's not that fucking easy," Tyler started to yell, tears blurring his vision and his voice raising octave after octave, stress and sadness letting themselves flow out by his words, "You don't know what it's like, feeling like shit and like no one will ever love you and that you're worthless, that you're pathetic. You don't know what it feels like to have people ignore you, you don't know how it feels to have something so dark, so terrifying pulling at your mind, plaguing your thoughts with terrible things and wanting to die almost everyday, you don't know you don't know you. don't.  _know."_

Jamie just stared, in shock. He didn't know, Tyler was right. He really didn't. 

           Tyler stared at him, anger and pain and sadness and grief filling his eyes with emotion. 

           "Get out of my house, Jamie." 

           That's what Jamie did. 

           Tyler didn't go to training camp that day, he called Coach and told him he was severely sick. Jamie didn't mention anything. 

           For the first time in a long time, Tyler sat crying, screaming in his empty bathroom tub. For the hundredth time, tears blurred his vision as he made those god awful marks that bled and would create even more god awful scars along his arms. For the thousandth time, Tyler really, really wanted to die. 

 

\- - - - - 

 

          Tyler and Jamie both impressed their coach. They both were top six forwards. They both were on the first line. They both were playing good hockey. One was happy, though, and one was struggling with happiness. 

          After their fight, Tyler and Jamie did not talk for a long time. It was in the middle of the hockey season when Jamie finally apologized. Tyler almost didn't accept it, but he missed having Jamie around, so he did. They got better, and they resorted to being friends like they always had been. Jamie never touched on the subject of Tyler's sadness again. It made Tyler want to cry. Tyler wanted help, so bad. He was so scared, though, so scared. He didn't know how to ask for help. He only knew how to snap at others. He just didn't know what to do. 

         Jamie helped him by being there all the time. He took Tyler out, he bought him food, he just spent time with him. Tyler did appreciate it, and Jamie knew it. 

         Tyler still didn't know Jamie was head over heels for him, and Jamie didn't know Tyler was also head over heels for him. It upset them both, so they would always call each other stupid for no reason (well, the reason was that, but they didn't let the other know). 

         Jamie still felt terrible over the fight. He really didn't know Tyler's reasoning for being sad, if there was one, and he really shouldn't have pushed so hard. Tyler had all the perfect reasons to yell and scream at Jamie, and Jamie was okay with it. Tyler, though, felt bad for snapping so bad at Jamie, but Jamie would always just reassure him and tell him that he wasn't mad, that he didn't care anymore and that it was in the past. Tyler didn't listen. 

         Jamie and Tyler grew closer and closer as the season progressed. Tyler sunk deeper and deeper as the season progressed, where, near the end, Tyler fell apart.

 

\- - - - -

 

         It was their last game of the season, and to be honest, Tyler sucked. The games before that, he sucked. And before that, he started to suck. He was sinking deeper and deeper and his play was awful and the team was disappointed in him and the only one who tried to help,  who tried to talk to him was Jamie Benn. 

        It didn't help.

        They had lost the game, Tyler had played like shit. He also felt like shit. 

        He drove home after the game, refusing to accept Jamie's offer to give him a ride. Jamie just looked on with concern as Tyler crawled into his new car.

        Tyler barely made it home. His mind was swarming, tears making it hard to drive. He breathed in and out and in and out and in and out and in until it felt like he wasn't breathing at all, that he was choking on the oxygen that he needed to survive. 

        He parked his car horribly, and he stumbled up to his apartment. He opened the door and slammed it shut. Marshall flinched before coming to greet him. Normally, Tyler would coo to him and pet him, then take him on a walk no matter how tired Tyler was after his game. This time, he did none of those things. He sat and cried, evil thoughts grabbing the good ones and swallowing them whole. 

        _No one loves you_ , Tyler thought.  _No one does, no one ever will. You're ugly, pathetic. You suck at hockey. Awful. The look that the coach gave you today said everything.  you're ugly UGly ugl y uGLy p,atheti c gross  annoy ing worthless pathetic pathetic. go away go away i can't stand thEse thOUGHTS  ANYMORe please hel p oh my god patheticpatheticpatheticuglyuglyuglyworthlessworthless_

        In a daze, he stood up and stumbled to the bathroom, fumbling for his phone in his pocket, checking the time. 1:42 am. Tyler squinted. Had he really been against the door that long? It seemed like minutes. Going to the phone number that he loved and had memorized throughout the past year, he clicked it, and texted Jamie Benn. 

        **tyler: jamie im fucking drowning in my own thoughts and theyre black and scary and im trying so fucking hard to drag myself out but im just sinking deeper and fucking deeper and im so scared i cant do this anymore im done im so sorry jamie i love you so much i know i never told you before and i hate myself for telling you now but i just want you to know but these thoughts are taunting me and killing me slowly and i want to do it before they can i m so rry ,i just cant im DONE im done im doen i feel  dea,d i can' t do thIS ANYMORE jMAIE it's GETTING TOO MUCH PleAsE HELP call someone please anSWER ASAP befORE I DO SOMETHING THAT I REGRET PLEASE HELP ME IM SO SORRY**

Confused, sad, depressed, Tyler walked into the bathroom, Marshall on his heels and reached into a cabinet. 

         About twenty minutes later, Jamie woke up to the text from Tyler. Jamie stared.

         And stared.

         And stared, before jumping out of bed. He was in a baggy, old shirt and a pair of sweats, but he booked it out of his apartment, without any shoes, only his phone in his hand. He booked it to Tyler's apartment building, sharp rocks digging into his feet but the pain barely registering. Jamie rushed upstairs to Tyler's apartment, not even bothering with the elevator, and struggled not to trip over his own two feet. His shaky hands struggled to unlock and open the door, time was ticking away and Jamie could feel his heart pumping and he could feel his fear and terror and emotion radiating from him. 

         He walked into the apartment, closing the door behind him, not caring. "Tyler?" He called, no answer. " _Tyler!"_ His stomach flipped, and he held back vomit when his heart sunk. Marshall was also no where to be found, when he usually greeted Jamie right away when he walked in. Jamie walked farther into the dark apartment. 

         The bathroom door was closed, but there was light leaking out from under the door. Jamie stepped towards the door, and twisted the handle.

         "Ty...?"

 

\- - - - -

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, there it is.
> 
> is he alive?? did he die???/
> 
> don't hate me.
> 
> there will be a third chapter but it'll be super short so do not fret and do not worry


	3. life isn't lived without pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they move on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I SAID FRIDAY BUT I GOT BUSY SO HERE HAVE IT ON SUNDAY 
> 
> sorry it's crap i lost my inspiration towards the end bc i didn't know where to take it

\- - - - -

 

          " _Welcome to the NHL Network._

_Today, we bring you terrible news that no one would ever want to hear._

_Tyler Seguin, star hockey player for the Dallas Stars, at 2:32 AM, committed suicide by overdosing. We will bring you more information later."_

 

_\- - - - -_

 

 

          Jamie had tried his hardest to keep Tyler alive. He really, really did.

          When he opened that bathroom door, what he saw is still tattooed on his eyelids when ever he shuts them, whenever he blinks. It'll always be there, and nothing will remove that horrible, terribly ugly sight that he saw. It followed him during the day and in his dreams during the night, and he just couldn't get rid of it. 

          Jamie had seen Tyler sitting in the bathroom tub. He was a mess. He had bruising under his eyes from lack of sleep and probably crying too much, his hair, which was usually well kept, was spiking up in multiple directions. He had tear stains on his shirt. He saw Marshall, who was whining. He was also in the tub with Tyler, licking his face, trying to wake him up. He was pawing at him, his whines full of fear and pain, and he licked and licked, begging, pleading for Tyler to wake up and pet him and coo too him. 

          Only he wouldn't. 

          The worst, though, the worse he saw that night was the thousands of little and long and deep and barely piercing the skin cuts. Cuts that covered both arms, cuts that were white or were scabbing, several that were bright red and leaking a scarlet liquid. Jamie had to swallow back the bile that was racing up his throat, begging to be released. Jamie didn't know. He didn't know. He didn't know this is what happened to Tyler. He didn't know that this is what Tyler did whenever he stalled before leaving, he didn't know that this was probably the reason Tyler didn't want him to come over when he was sad. This was probably why he refused help, for he wouldn't have been able to stand the looks of sympathy. He didn't know that this is what Tyler had burdened himself with. He didn't fucking know and Jamie wanted to cry. 

          The last thing he noticed, was the bottle of pills. Jamie didn't know what kind they were, he didn't care, but he did know that the orange bottle was empty, and that Tyler had attempted suicide. 

          Jamie couldn't move. He was frozen to the spot. A loud ringing took up in Jamie's ears. His vision become blurry, his heart thumped in his chest, his limbs shook.  _Oh God._

Finally, he moved. He grabbed his phone shakily, and dialed 911 which took him several attempts, for his fingers and arm would not stop shaking. He crawled into the tub as his phone rang -  _pick up pick up pick up,_ Jamie pleaded - and positioned himself over Tyler, not bothering to move Marshall. The phone continued to ring. He stripped off his shirt and patted the blood away off of Tyler's arm, and took a deep breath.  _Fuck,_ he thought, and was about to take two fingers to shove down Tyler's throat to try to make him vomit, to get the pills out of his system. A voice interrupted him.

         "911, what is your emergency?"

         "My friend attempted suicide, oh God, what do I do? Oh, Tyler, I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so sorry."

         "Is he still alive?"

         "He's barely breathing, ma'am, he's going to die, isn't he? Oh my God, fuck." 

         "No, he won't. What's your address? Tell me and stay on the line with me." 

         That's what Jamie did. 

         The women who helped him instructed him to do what he was just previously planning to do - try to make Tyler vomit. It worked. Jamie wasn't disgusted that his arm and hand was covered in disgusting stomach acid, but he was ecstatic. Tyler would live. He would be okay. They could live together, they could be happy. They could play fucking good ass hockey and they would win the cup together and maybe even kiss under it if Tyler was okay with it. They'd be happy. 

         Until, Jamie noticed, Tyler had just stopped breathing. 

         " _Fuck!_ "

         "Jamie, what is it?"

         "He stopped breathing! He stopped! He's not fucking breathing! When are the cops getting here? I need them here now!"

         "Jamie, I need you to calm down and give him CPR." 

         "Okay, Jesus fucking Christ, okay," Jamie obeyed, and took a deep breathe and lowered Tyler so Tyler was completely on his back. Then, he started doing CPR.

          _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight..._

_... twenty nine, thirty._

Jamie gave Tyler mouth to mouth, then started pumping on his chest again.

          "Tyler, don't you fucking dare leave me, don't you do it. Don't you fucking do it. We're suppose - we're suppose to be happy together, Ty. We can't do that if you're fucking dead. Tyler, I love you. You can't do this to me, you're so damn important and I know I never told you and I'm so sorry but you can't leave me in this fucking world alone I won't be able to do it and I just, Tyler,  _please."_

          Jamie gave him mouth to mouth again, tears dripping down onto Tyler's pale, lifeless cheeks. Marshall had rested his head on Tyler's arm, now silent, just watching with sad, brown eyes. 

          The women on the phone just listened, her own brown eyes glistening with tears not spilled. 

          Jamie didn't register that a few cops and emergency responders had broken into Tyler's dark apartment. He didn't register that a police officer pulled Jamie off of Tyler, another one picked up Marshall who whined and seemed as lifeless as his owner. He didn't process that the EMT's had picked up Tyler and placed him on a stretcher and rushed him downstairs. He didn't register any of it, until he was, somehow, in the hospital, waiting for any news on Tyler. 

          Jamie's world officially ended when he received the news that, at 2:32 am, Tyler Seguin had died.  

 

\- - - - -

 

 

          It had been a year since Tyler passed away.

          Jamie was getting on okay. He now owned Marshall, Tyler's dog. Marshall wasn't as happy as he use to be, now usually sitting around and seeming to sulk. Jamie always joined him whenever he got home from practice and games, stroking his head and whispering, "Me too, buddy. Me too."

          Everyone would always ask Jamie, 'How are you doing?', 'Are you okay?', 'Do you need help with anything?'.  _I'm good, yes, no,_  would always be Jamie's answers to those questions, pushing people away. 

         Jamie felt like shit and he missed Tyler like hell, the handsome man he fell head over heels for, who's eyes lit up when he smiled and looked at Jamie and always tried to look at the brightest possibilities, even though he was struggling with internal demons and wanted so badly to just die. Tyler was Jamie's, and now Tyler was gone. 

         At first, Jamie wanted to die after Tyler did. But, he realized, Tyler would fucking hate him if he tried to die, and Jamie didn't want Tyler to hate him.

         When Jamie found out that Tyler Brown, Patrick Kane, Brad Marchand and Patrice Bergeron all knew about Tyler's self harm and depression, Jamie was  _pissed._ They could have prevented this, they could have helped Tyler get better, they could have forced him into rehab, they could have they could have  _they could have._ Allfour men reached out to Jamie when they heard about Tyler's death, begged for forgiveness, saying how they didn't know Tyler was this sad, that they didn't know that Tyler wanted to die. Jamie didn't reply to any of them, being childish instead and blocking their number. 

         Tyler's funeral sucked. Jamie almost didn't go - Jordie had to force him out of bed and force him to take a shower and get ready. Jamie didn't cry at Tyler's funeral. His face was red and tear stained and swollen at one in the morning that night, though, when he was drinking too much alcohol and eating too less food. 

          Jamie was slowly recovering. He knew Tyler wanted him to be happy, to move on and take care of his dog (which Jamie was, but he also knew that Tyler wanted him to take top notch care of Marshall. That's why Jamie bought eighty dollar bags of dog food for Marshall and bought fifty dollar 'special' water for him). 

         So, Jamie continued on living. He would be okay in the end, and everyone who knew Tyler would be okay, too. 

         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COMMENT IF YOU WANT AN ALTERNATE ENDING :-))))


	4. [ALT. ENDING] take my mind & i'll take your heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the [good] ending where marshall gets to play fetch at the ripe old age of seventeen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long! school started and it has drained me 
> 
> it's been a nice ride w/ you all. like i said (i think?) i'll probably come back one day and rewrite this completely, adding so much more detail and many more chapters. i hope you enjoy it as it is now, though :-)

          After he had texted Jamie, Tyler Seguin walked into the bathroom.

          He held several small, white pills in his hand.  _"Never take more than one of these, okay, Tyler? It could result in death and many other severe side effects."_  The athletic doctor's voice rang in Tyler's brain, seemingly just to taunt him. That's why he wanted to take them - for the result to be death. Well, the pills did make pain go away. That's also why Tyler wanted to take them all. He wanted to feel numb to the world - empty. The dark voices in Tyler's mind mumbled constantly, never seeming to stop. He wanted them to shut up, just to shut up and  _leave._  

          Tyler was just so fucking tired. He was sick of wanting to sleep all day. He was sick of everything. And this would be his way out of it.

          Shaking, Tyler moved his body into the empty, cold bathtub - a razor in his hands. He almost didn't want to do this. He thought about Marshall, who happened to be sitting by the tub, resting his head on the edge, reaching out to lick Tyler with his soft, slobbery tongue. He was whining; it seemed like he knew what Tyler was going to do and he wanted to prevent it from happening. Within a second, Marshall was actually in the tub with him, laying on him. His head was on Tyler's chest. Tyler just smiled softly, reaching out and stroking his beloved dogs head, whispering words such as 'it'll be okay', and 'i'm gonna miss you, buddy'.

          Of course Tyler would miss his family. His mother, his sisters and everyone else. They meant so damn much to him - but here he was, giving up. It's not like they'd care. It would just make life easier on them, they'd be happier without him. Squeezing his eyes shut, trying to push back the tears, Tyler struggled with what he was going to do.

          No one will care that he's dead.

          And then, Tyler would miss all his teammates. He'd miss all the guys on all the teams he's ever played on. He'll miss the Bruins, and especially the Stars, for giving him a second chance when he needed it most. He could never repay them for what they've done for him. He's miss them, a lot. But they wouldn't miss them. No - he'd open the salary cap up and they could afford much better players than him. He wasn't any good anyways.

          Most of all, though, he would miss Jamie - his Jamie. The one with the greasy ass hair (which Tyler begged he get new shampoo for and wash more often), the one who has slightly chubby cheeks and whose laugh lights up Tyler's world. 

          He'd miss the man who made him feel so much better whenever he was down, whenever he wanted to die, even though Jamie never knew his real feelings. 

          Jamie wasn't here though, and Jamie would not miss him one bit.

          He wouldn't miss the man covered in scars, he wouldn't miss the man who never had a childhood because of his damn depression. He wouldn't miss the man who stays awake at night and sleeps all day, the man with dark circles under his eyes and who had pain covering every square inch of his body. No, Jamie wouldn't miss Tyler Seguin at all. 

          So, Tyler wanted to die. 

          No one would miss him anyways. 

          With that final though, with oh so shaky hands, Tyler popped the deadly white pills into his mouth and swallowed them. 

          Leaning his head back, he let out a shaky sigh and shut his eyes.

 

\- - - - -

 

          All Tyler remembers from that night are the white pills that he held in his hand. The white pills that almost took away his life.

          All Tyler knows, now, is that it was a dumb choice to make. He didn't know it was 'selfish' of himself to do it at the time - he still doesn't. He honestly thought that dying would be the only way to make everyone around him happy. He was going to kill himself to make the people he loves happier. He didn't know.

          He was wrong. It would kill them on the inside. 

          All Tyler now realizes, is that Jamie Benn, now the most important person ever to him, saved his life that night.

          Jamie won't exactly give him the details. Whenever Tyler asks him about it, Jamie's usually happy eyes cloud over and he becomes quiet. The only thing he knows is that he got vomit all over Jamie. Tyler tried to give Benn shit about it, but he would snap whenever Tyler mentioned that night. So, Tyler left it alone, not exactly realizing how much he meant to Jamie and how much that night killed Jamie to see Tyler so pale, so  _dead_ looking.

          Even though it's been a year, Jamie kept constant watch on Tyler. On the days when Tyler seemed even slightly down, Jamie would follow him everywhere - even to the bathroom. It was annoying as hell, but to be all honest, Tyler appreciated it so much. He appreciated the love, he appreciated the care he received from Jamie. It was nice not depending on himself to be better and happy, it was nice not locking up negative feelings inside and releasing them by creating cuts into beautiful skin. Jamie has helped Tyler get so much better.

          After Tyler got out of the hospital, he immediately went to a mental health place where he stayed for a month. He received top notch care there, and when he was able to leave, Tyler honestly felt happy - he felt  _free._ The dark voices inside his head now only lingered on his very bad days, which almost never happened anymore. 

          For the first time, Tyler was honestly happy with how his life was going   

\- - - - -

 

          Tyler was walking Marshall and Cash - his new lab puppy - down the sidewalk, planning to go to the dog park like the dog mom he was. 

          Looking up from his phone, he smiled and was pulled into a big hug by one of his favorite people - Brad Marchand. 

          "Oh my god, Tyler, you look amazing," Brad said, smiling. It was true. Tyler had a healthy glow to his skin for once, the dark circles that controlled the space under his eyes since he was thirteen have gone away. He looked fit, he looked good, and he was happy and healthy.

          "You're not too bad yourself," Tyler grinned. 

          "How are you doing, Tyler?" Brad asked, trying not to show the concern that dimly shone in his usually bright eyes. Tyler noticed though - he always noticed whenever anyone asked about how he was doing. 

          Tyler smiled shyly, blushing.

          "I'm doing great," he said, looking down at the gold band (that may or may not have a heart carved on the inside of the band, with the name 'Jamie' on the opposite side of the heart) that lay on his left ring finger.

          "I'm going really, really great."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

\- - - - - 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

          "Good boy!" Tyler yelled, watching his beloved dog run, or mostly limp, back to him, his gray muzzle carrying a bright green ball back to him. He was panting, but not hard enough that they needed to stop. His tongue lolled out as he barked a command for his human to throw it again, which his human commanded and threw it for him. 

          Tyler sat back, tears in his eyes.

          "Babe, what's wrong?" Jamie asked, concern lacing his voice.

          "I don't want him to die." 

          Quickly, Jamie pulled him into a hug, stroking his back, "He won't, not soon. If he's anything like you, that dog is gonna be alive until we're in our own graves. Or when he does pass, he'll probably haunt us." 

          This caused Tyler to smile and pull away, wiping the tears away and picked the ball up once again and tossed it for Marshall. 

          A pulling at Tyler's shorts made him whirl around, only to face a dark haired little boy who had his hands up, yelling 'daddy, daddy, pick me up!" Tyler grinned his beautiful smile and obliged, setting the child on his shoulders.

          Cash circled around Tyler's legs, seemingly keeping an eye on the child to make sure he didn't fall. 

          Jamie smiled at Tyler, his eyes twinkling. 

          "How come you're Samson's favorite dad?"

          Tyler shrugged, grinning, "Cause you're the one who won't let us get another dog and a cat."

           "That's not my fault, Tyler! Two dogs and a five year old child and both of us still playing in the NHL? I don't think so!" 

          Tyler stuck out his lip, and so did their son, Samson. Jamie laughed and rolled his eyes.

          "You know what, Tyler?"

          "Hm?" Tyler hummed, tossing the ball once again for the seventeen year old dog. 

          "I'm really glad I saved you that night."

          Tyler's breath hitched for a split second, before he turned to Jamie and smiled. 

          "Me too, Jamie. Me too."

 

          

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're struggling with depression, things will get better.
> 
> i promise you. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> p.s. i didn't edit this oopsies!!! 
> 
> thank you so much again guys for reading this and sticking through my updates that took forever.
> 
> much love, josie (:


End file.
